Plans
by naboru narluin
Summary: The Combaticons manage to capture Sunstreaker, but not everything goes as Onslaught has planned. / Onslaught, Sunstreaker, Swindle (mentions of Brawl, Vortex, Blast Off) / gen, fighting scenes, mentions of severe injuries


**Title: **Plans  
**Continuity:** G1  
**Warnings:** gen, fighting scenes, mentions of severe injuries  
**Characters:** Onslaught, Sunstreaker, Swindle (mentions of Brawl, Vortex, Blast Off)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** The Combaticons manage to capture Sunstreaker, but not everything goes as Onslaught has planned.  
**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
**Beta:** ultharkitty

**Note:** Written for the acidgreenflames

* * *

Onslaught crossed his arms, tilting his head.

Their prisoner was almost as condescending as Blast Off. Onslaught employed his formula for dealing with the shuttle. He just needed to replace the all-present indifference with anger, and the high possibility of being ignored for days with rage and the chance of being randomly attacked.

Behind his visor, Onslaught's optics narrowed. He needed to be careful around this Autobot that was for sure.

Brawl hadn't been, and he'd paid the price.

The tank was in his quarters, a repair drone taking care of the damage. Onslaught had asked what happened, because he didn't believe that the Autobot attacked him out of the blue without reason, but Brawl had kept quiet. It was most likely his own fault. Onslaught could guess that he couldn't have resisted his urges with that pretty Autobot sitting there, apparently helpless in brig.

Yes, it was most likely Brawl's own fault.

Onslaught vented an inaudible sigh.

The Autobot "Sunstreaker": his armour lived up to his name. Even after a fight, it was shiny, although dented. Only the face was a bright contrast to that. Still rather pretty, but the expression dark. The blue optics gleamed with anger and the prospect of violence.

Onslaught stared at the mech on the berth behind the energon bars. His hands were cuffed now after attacking Brawl. Back against the wall, legs bent, he seemed quite relaxed. He stared back at Onslaught.

Sunstreaker's optics were fixed at Onslaught's, and only sometimes, for an astrosecond, they flicked to other places of the gestalt leader's frame.

Onslaught was tense. It wasn't the brief mapping out of his frame he knew from Vortex, which promised trouble but pleasure as well. It was different. It was to find out his weak spots. To get to know where he had to hit Onslaught, or to shoot at, as soon as he got the chance.

"You attacked Brawl," Onslaught eventually said.

"That's the stupid guy's name?" To the anger and violence was added some amusement which flickered in the blue optics.

"Why did you attack him?" Onslaught wouldn't allow to be goaded into a verbal fight.

"He's a Decepticon," Sunstreaker answered, as though it explained everything. The tone was almost similar to Blast Off's when he had to state obvious facts.

Onslaught had to suppress a growl at that.

"If you were more cooperative, we would let you go." Well _probably_, Onslaught added in his mind. "I just want to know a few things."

"I don't know anything." Sunstreaker didn't even shrug, or sounded annoyed by that. There was only his general annoyance which seemed to be there all the time.

"So, you're a simple foot soldier, not worthy of being given any valuable information?" It was a strike to the Autobot's pride, which he apparently was full of.

Onslaught merely got a dark smirk as answer. The Autobot's optics flicked to his back cannons once, then settled again on the visor. "The Autobots don't trust me."

There was almost a huff, but Onslaught managed to bite it back. If Sunstreaker wore that expression on the Ark every day, he understood the other Autobots' reaction. Even in the Decepticon ranks, someone glaring like that all the time would rather be... difficult to handle. And that thought left Onslaught wondering why this mech was an Autobot at all.

"They may not tell you everything, but you still know things." Access codes for Teletraan One, for the security system, construction plans of the Ark, and any changes to the interior. It was valuable information, something Onslaught needed. Something he could show Megatron.

"If you don't talk to me, I will have Vortex talk to you. And I don't think you'll like that." It wasn't said as a threat, more a fact.

"That's your helicopter, isn't it? He crashed rather badly on the battlefield, I bet he's still in medbay." There was again the hint to amusement, and Onslaught tensed even more.

Vortex was on the Nemesis; the Constructicons wouldn't let him out before the day after tomorrow.

How did the Autobot know?

"Why do you think that?" Onslaught asked, voice flat, keeping his wariness out of it.

A shrug. "He crashed. Most flyers are slow on the ground. And I know my brother."

Onslaught understood the implications, and his optics twitched. Right now, he had the strong urge to beat the Autobot to scrap metal.

"He'll be back in two days. You have till then to talk to me. Otherwise you're going to regret it."

"Hmpf", a huff, full of condescension and something Onslaught couldn't quite grab. "I don't think so. I'm looking forward to your 'copter. He has nice rotors." Sunstreaker's optics brightened for an astrosecond. "Easy to bend. Easy to rip out."

Onslaught clenched his hand to a fist. This haughtiness was disgusting, and clearly not how a prisoner should act.

"Hey," the Autobot continued, "do you think his rotor blades are sharp enough to cut his neck cables?"

This time, Onslaught didn't hinder his engine from revving to a growl. "You shouldn't talk like you'd have a chance to try. You're in cuffs."

Tipping his head to one side, Sunstreaker looked at his hands, raising them a little. His tone was full of mocking surprise as he spoke. "Ah, yeah..._right_." And the last word was imbued with sarcasm.

Onslaught resisted reacting, ignoring the itch in his joints that built with his anger. That mech pushed all his buttons.

He was secretly in awe of Vortex' capabilities of faking relaxation. And he was partly in awe of Blast Off indifference which probably wouldn't make him care in the slightest.

"You'll see," Onslaught muttered after another klik of staring, then he walked away.

* * *

Swindle looked warily at the yellow Autobot sitting on the berth. He seemed uninterested in Swindle's presence, or maybe he was just tired. He hadn't had any energon since the Combaticons caught him. This would be his first ration, not even half an energon cube. Swindle only had to bring it because Onslaught wanted the Autobot to be able to endure Vortex' treatment.

Swindle didn't feel so great, though. He should go in and out instantly, not wasting time. _Just in case_, Onslaught had said. But Swindle knew that this guy wasn't one of the good mechs.

His human contacts knew the name, and had told him that even Autobot-friendly humans stayed away from some of them.

Sunstreaker was one, another was Grimlock. That keeping your distance to the Dinobot was better was more obvious. Sunstreaker didn't even have external weapons, unlike Swindle, who had his mounted arm weapon, very visible for the Autobot.

Just in case.

Swindle disabled a few energon bars which were most distant to Sunstreaker, and stepped in. Optics on the Autobot, he walked to the table and set down the cube. He was about to make his exist when he noticed the chair. There was something off about it. Its back leant against the wall, but it still seemed to fall over.

It was only a few astroseconds that Swindle shifted his glance from Sunstreaker to the chair, seeing one leg was missing.

He didn't have time to make sense of it. A yellow blur in his peripheral vision moved fast, and Swindle's head slammed against the wall. Equilibrium failed, and if it hadn't been for the tight grip around his arm, he'd have sunk to his knees.

The Autobot held Swindle's weapon arm firmly, bending it behind his back, so forceful that cables twisted and lines broke. A warning flashed in his HUD; a gargling left his vocaliser. But no more sound or scream could be uttered when Sunstreaker pressed his hand on Swindle's mouth, muffling the noises.

Then Swindle's arm was free, but it was hardly usable, the warning informing him about a disrupted flow of signals.

The weapon was offline.

And then there was pain. A blunt object penetrated his back, forcing his way through his torso, ripping energon lines apart, squashing circuitry and important systems. Swindle's optics widened in horror, shock and pain as his innards burnt like they'd been dipped in acid.

His chest bulging, then tore apart, and Swindle could see the metal rod sticking out.

Sickness spread. Not only from pain, also from the sight and increased disorientation as Sunstreaker punched him in the head again.

This time, Swindle fell down. Body twitching, energon loss immense as it flowed over the ground. The purple optics were dim, the HUD covered with warnings and the visible input almost unimportant. Only barely could Swindle see the Autobot's deformed hand and fingers, freed from his cuffs, which dangled down from the intact one.

Sunstreaker leant down, groping his plating as though searching for something as Swindle gathered enough focus to send an emergency ping to his team. Onslaught was at base, Brawl, too. Blast Off and Vortex on the way back from the Nemesis

Then his thoughts stopped, as a new wave of pain swapped over him. The armour of his outer thigh was ripped off, revealing more cables and lines, and free space occupied by a gun.

Sunstreaker took it.

Swindle tried to move, but loss of energon and hydraulic fluid made it futile. He could only watch Sunstreaker take the energon cube, and point the gun at him.

The shot caused more pain, but it all dissolved into agony as his systems shut down.

* * *

When Onslaught arrived at the scene, Swindle was in bad shape: impaled with a metal rod, his shoulder, neck and the back of his helm torn open by gunfire.

Swindle was offline, the Autobot gone.

An explosion rattled the base, the sound echoing from the entrance even into the brig, and Onslaught growled. With the energon cube gone, he guessed where it came from.

Trying his best to tackle the worst of Swindle's injuries, Onslaught's processor clocked fast as he balanced his options.

Swindle needed treatment in medbay of the Nemesis. Blast Off and Vortex would be here in about ten kliks. Too much time wasted. He couldn't send Blast Off looking for the escaping Autobot, he needed the shuttle to fly back to the Constructicons - and hoped he wouldn't get Blast Off in any of his moods.

Vortex would need to fly out and look for the escapee, together with Brawl and himself, but the chances of catching him were low. He probably had already called his friends. Or _allies_, because Sunstreaker didn't appear as though he would be friendly to anyone.

Another aggressive growl as joints tensed in anger.

Whenever Onslaught would meet this Autobot again, he'd make him pay for this.


End file.
